She Always Was The Brightest Witch Of Her Age
by demon lilith
Summary: Bellatrix has to admit that Granger's caught her attention. When the girl wanders into her territory, Bellatrix isn't eager to let her new obsession go. Hermione finds herself the toy of a madwoman, and as her will is slowly destroyed, she finds that she no longer minds it as much as she should. Dubious Consent Bellamione. Psychopath!Bellatrix. Stockholm Syndrome!Hermione
1. Chapter 1

_Full Summary: Much as Bellatrix despises Mudbloods, she has to admit that little smart mouth Granger's caught her attention. When the girl winds up wandering into her territory with her little friends, Bellatrix can't help but relish in the destruction that she wrecks on the girl's mind, and when the time comes, she's not eager to let her new obsession go. Hermione finds herself the toy of a madwoman, and as her will is slowly destroyed, she finds that she no longer minds it as much as she should._

_Dubious Consent Bellamione. Psychopath!Bellatrix. Stockholm Syndrome!Hermione_

XXXXX

Bellatrix's predatory smile can mean nothing good. Hermione has survived dragons and dementors, werewolves and Basilisks, resurrected Dark Lords and homicidal lockets, but it's having that smile focused on her that makes her wish for the first time that she had never received an invitation to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As if sensing this, Bellatrix's smile grows wider.

"I'm going to have a conversation with this one… girl to girl!"

And just like that, Hermione is alone with Bellatrix. At first, she can't help but struggle. The dark witch has a vice's grip on her wrist, and images of being dragged away to be tortured until she forgets her parents as thoroughly as they have forgotten her makes Hermione want to sob with fear. However, somewhere far below, a dungeon door clangs shut, and she regains her senses. For Harry's sake, she can't die here. Fighting Bellatrix would surely be suicide; there's nothing that she can do but wait the mad witch's fury out. The older witch's smile suggests that she knows this, and Hermione almost loses all hope of surviving with her sanity intact right then and there. It's just a sword. Why does it mean so much Bellatrix?

Her distraction betrays her. Bellatrix shoves her roughly into a far corner of the room though, with Narcissa and Lucius's absence, there's no one left to witness whatever damage she might cause next. Perhaps the effect is simply meant to make Hermione feel isolated. If that's the aim, it's met. Bellatrix leans in closely to her young prey, and Hermione freezes, no longer brave enough to attempt to escape. Bellatrix smiles grimly, but her eyes shine with a strange light.

"Tell me, Mudblood. How did you get into my safe?"

"Your safe?" Hermione repeats dumbly. Then she feels the dark witch's wand against her neck, and she feels the flesh it's resting on begin to burn. Unable to bite down her scream, she channels it into the only answer she knows: "We… we didn't! We didn't!"

"Liar!" Bellatrix shrieks, and there's an undertone to her voice that Hermione can't place but isn't exactly pleased to hear.

"We didn't, I swear!" Hermione shuts her eyes tightly, trying to control her panic. Perhaps Bellatrix takes this as a sign that she's hiding the truth. Suddenly, her hand connects with Hermione's face, and Hermione stumbles to her knees. Distantly, it dawns on her that she should be thankful that her nose isn't broken. She hadn't been prepared for the blow to carry so much force.

Bellatrix snorts, probably at Hermione's weak tolerance for physical violence. With a sudden surge of self loathing, Hermione decides that she agrees with the sentiment. Why hadn't she listened to her father's advice and learned a martial art? A witch without a wand is nothing more than a dead weight, it appears. How could she ever have thought that she could do anything without a magical ability to fall back on? Her parents had known better, had begged her not to forget her origins. She'll have to listen to them better in the future. It can't be too late for her to learn. She can restore her parents' memories, and they can be a family again…

"Dear lord, are you _crying?_" Bellatrix mutters so lowly that Hermione almost doesn't hear it. Somehow, the disgust in the woman's tone is still palpable, and Hermione flinches.

"And I'm supposed to believe that scum like you managed to break past Gringotts, hm?"

"We didn't break into anything!" Hermione insists wildly, fighting to clear her mind and calm herself. If she's going to die here, it should be with as much dignity as possible.

The older witch seems to disagree that she has any dignity left to lose. "We'll see about that."

Suddenly, Bellatrix lashes out, and Hermione is forced back to the ground. Before she can regain her bearings, Bellatrix is on top of her, straddling her, hands around her neck and squeezing. Hermione gasps for breath, but Bellatrix simply waits, face calmer than Hermione has ever seen it before. It's not until Hermione's vision becomes blurred at the edges that Bellatrix loosens her grip. For a few moments, she allows Hermione to gasp desperately for air. Then, she calmly states, "This is the last time that I'll ask. What all did you take from my vault?"

Hermione couldn't speak if she wanted to. She just shakes her head wordlessly, hoping against hope that she'll be believed.

To her surprise, Bellatrix sits up straighter, looking at her almost curiously. Whatever question she might have had, she seems to answer it, and a small smile ghosts her lips.

"I see. How, then, did you come across this sword?"

Caught off guard by the sudden mood whiplash and already more exhausted than she can handle, Hermione decides that it can't hurt to just tell the truth. "Dumbledore said—" Then she begins to cough, lungs spasming painfully. Bellatrix waits for her to recover and then prods her to continue. Somehow, Hermione manages to choke out, "Dumbledore said that the sword would come to aid anyone who needed it. Harry found it at the bottom of a lake, he said. He was half asleep when he went down there, but…"

Bellatrix reaches out and sweeps a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear, hand lingering against the girl's cheek. Her eyes seek out Hermione's and pierce through them. "And?"

Already dizzy but unable to look away, Hermione hears herself saying as if from a distance, "He dived down to retrieve it. He almost drowned, but Ron returned then… he had left us before because living in hiding was wearing on him, I suppose—it was wearing on all of us, really… but he came back, and he helped Harry bring the sword back to camp."

"I see," Bellatrix says thoughtfully, bringing her hand downward slightly, stroking the side of Hermione's neck with her thumb. "And for what did he need this sword, then? What would compel it to come to his aid?"

Words bubble up in Hermione's lips, but she bites them back and forces herself to clear her mind. No, Bellatrix can't be allowed to know this. She'll withstand torture if she has to, but she won't betray her friends.

But Bellatrix doesn't look angry, simply amused. "Come now, darling, you can tell me" she teases, voice surprisingly light and friendly. "It will be our little secret."

Hermione stares up at the witch above her, suspecting a trick but unsure of the new direction that it's approaching from. In response, Bellatrix chuckles, and her hand drifts lower, now rubbing circles at the end of Hermione's collar bone. The younger witch shivers, surprised by the many feelings arising within her. There's relief, of course, and hints of fear still keep her body alert and tense. But there's something more, now, something darker and more compelling coursing through the skin that Bellatrix touches. With a flash, its meaning hits Hermione, and horror shoots through her. Oh, no. Oh, no no no! She is _not_ lusting over a Death Eater, let alone the woman who killed Harry's godfather!

Again, Bellatrix seems to disagree. She'd been carefully watching as the younger witch's attention turned inward, and now she seems more than a little pleased about the conclusion reached. She brings the girl out of her reverie with a kiss. She seems pleased by Hermione's startled gasp—no, this was not what the girl expected. Doubtless, even if some part of the girl had wondered what it would feel like to kiss Bellatrix, she would never have imagined that such a kiss could be gentle, slow, sensuous. As Bellatrix trails downward, pausing to suck hard at the pulse on Hermione's neck, Hermione moans. Her body thrusts upward against Bellatrix's, and the woman smiles against her skin.

"Now," she purrs, pulling herself up to lick at the cusp of Hermione's ear, "what was this about Potter requiring the sword?"

Hermione shivers hard, eyes drifting shut. She's surprised by her sudden desire to answer and please the murderess above her. Of course, outweighing this desire is a growing horror. With a sudden burst of strength, she bucks against the older witch, trying to shove her off.

"Get away from me!" She means the words to be snarled, harsh and intimidating, and she hates herself for how breathy they come out.

"Oooh, feisty!" Bellatrix teases. "Goodness, you're fun to play with. It's a shame that you have such filthy, tainted blood."

"Get off!" Hermione shrieks, beginning her struggle anew. "Leave me alone!"

Bellatrix ignores her, easily pinning down her swinging arms. She leans over and kisses the side of Hermione's mouth, then, and when Hermione tries to bite her, she just laughs. Her mouth moves to Hermione's shoulder, and when she bites, she draws blood. She doesn't hesitate to lick it up, sucking at the wound as if to draw up more of supposedly tainted blood.

"Filthy little Mudblood whore," Bellatrix laughs, and, despite herself, Hermione hears another low moan slip past her lips. Bellatrix's eyes meet hers, then, and they're absolutely shining with delight.

"Oh, good _girl_," she whispers, and even prepared, Hermione can't stop the moan from escaping her. Nor can she stop herself from squirming as Bellatrix lightly strokes back her hair. Some part of her is still burning with shame, pleading to anyone who could listen to save her, but Hermione is finding it easier and easier to allow these new feelings to blot out that small voice. Oh, she's felt desire before. She's sure that she'll remember Victor Krum when she's old and grey, and she has to admit that even Ron has caught her attention, lately. But this is something entirely new to her, and she can't help but like it.

"Enjoying this, are you? Goodness. You _are_ pathetic, getting off on your own debasement. You're trapped under a Death Eater, my dear. Your friends would wish to murder you if they saw this."

A hand works its way under the top of Hermione's pants, fingers lightly dancing across the top of her thighs. Hermione gives up on trying to fight the feelings this provokes when one of the fingers dips momentarily to lightly stroke across her panties. Bellatrix smirks.

"I _suppose_ I can understand. Do you over work that massive brain of yours? Brightest witch of your age, are you? Mm, I suppose you're enjoying the chance to rest a bit? Stop thinking, stop planning, stop worrying, and just _feel_ for once? Those _friends_ of yours, my dear… do they use you as the brain of the Golden Trio? The little know-it-all come to save them from their own stupidity again and again? You need better acknowledgement than that, my dear. You need to be around people who can really appreciate your… talents."

Bellatrix hand dips down again and circles the new but growing damp spot on Hermione's underwear, and her words enter Hermione's mind through a thickening haze.

"Would you like me to steal you away from those filthy friends of yours, sweetie? I promise that I'd find a much better use for you than forcing you to trail after me all the time, always third rate, never appreciated or… _admired_—as you should be. From what I've seen, you really are quite brilliant. Very talented, as well, simply wonderful. If I had you, I wouldn't give you up for the world."

Bellatrix pauses for a moment, and Hermione bites back a whine. The older woman smiles slightly, using her other hand to gently tip up Hermione's chin so that their eyes are again locked.

"There is one thing in the way still, however. Sweetie, I need you to tell me why Potter was allowed to find the sword."

"We had to destroy…" Hermione says before her mind can catch up with her mouth. She does catch herself, though, and she really is trying so very hard to censor herself.

"Please—" Bellatrix breathes, pauses, and smirks—"Hermione."

"The locket," Hermione blurts. Her breath catches in her throat, then, as Bellatrix rewards her with another kiss and a more substantial pressure with her slow, consistent circling.

"The locket, hm?" Bellatrix murmurs when she finally pulls back slightly. "And why would destroying such an inconsequential object be so important?"

"I can't tell you… please…"

"That's alright, Hermione. You don't have to tell me anything.

"You can show me, instead."

And who could blame Hermione for losing control of her thoughts?

Under Bellatrix's guidance, images flash to the front of Hermione's mind, and Bellatrix searches through them carefully. It's a strange sensation, Hermione finds, having Bellatrix roaming her thoughts. At times, it feels like the memories that she drags up to the front are distinctly _not_ war related. Hermione almost thinks that she can catch glimpses, here and there, of her childhood, of times with her friends, of fantasies and lonely nights that she herself had locked away and refused to look at again… but it's so hard to know for sure, after all, when Bellatrix is touching her like that. It's so much easier to just lay there, wide eyed and mentally open, not thinking and simply feeling. Isn't that, after all, why she's doing this? A break, that's all. She just needs a break.

Bellatrix might laugh, but she doesn't hear it.

She's falling, drowning in a sea of sensation, refusing to fight for air when she's so already so tired of trying to swim against the current…

And then she's abruptly forced back to her senses as Bellatrix rolls off of her and jumps lightly to her feet. Mind climbing back to its usual break need speed as she forces herself to a sitting position, Hermione notices that the other Malfoys have reentered the room, picks up on their postures, registers the presence of a goblin. Bellatrix interacts with the goblin, demanding to have the sword checked for authenticity and then calling said goblin a liar when he proclaims it to be a fraud, but she seems preoccupied. A moment later, Hermione discovers why. Harry and Ron are back from the dungeons, it seems.

Reality hitting her like a freight train, Hermione scrambles to her feet to rejoin her friends. Bellatrix shoots a calculating look her way before quickly turning her attention back to the male portion of the Golden Trio in time to stop them from taking her wand. A battle erupts after Harry gets a hold of Draco's wand instead. Hermione is looking for a way to help her friends when suddenly Bellatrix is holding her from behind, pressing a knife into her neck.

"I thought about using my wand for this," Bellatrix whispers, "but I thought you might appreciate this a bit more." Then, more loudly, she calls, "Stop! Drop your wands!"

The fighting stops, and Bellatrix smiles into Hermione's neck. Hermione hasn't the strength left to shudder. Her head is beginning to pound, the night's activities finally catching up to her now that the adrenaline of before is wearing off. Bellatrix is almost completely supporting her so that she doesn't collapse, and Hermione wonders what this looks like to Harry and Ron. Like she's been tortured to the point of exhaustion, most likely, and she can't find the energy to communicate otherwise. Besides, what exactly could she communicate? Nor is now the time for such communications, not with Bellatrix's next order still reverberating around the room like the cruelest of curses.

"Summon the Dark Lord."

XXXXX

_A/N: I know what you're thinking. 'What? Smut from _her?'_ Well. Yes. What can I say? I have a (quite literal) weakness for psychopathic woman, and with my friend Lillielle writing Bellatrix in a similar manner, I figured that it was about time that I write my own version of the pairing._

_I should note that while I can't promise updates as regular as they are for DID You Hear the Rabbit Cry, I do have this story almost completely planned out, so I'll try to not make any readers wait too long between chapters._

_As well, it should be known that this story may become explicitly mature. If that becomes problematic, I may host it solely on Archive of Our Own. However, I would prefer not to do this and will try my best to warn readers ahead of time of more mature content._


	2. Chapter 2

Time slows to a stop. No one dares to move. Hermione can sense Bellatrix's disapproval, and she finds that she can understand it. Somehow or another, Voldemort will be summoned, and how much worse will be his wrath if he senses disloyalty in his followers? Hermione has half a mind to tell Draco to get on with it already. Perhaps it's Gryffindor foolishness disguised as bravery, but Hermione's tired of the cowardice of those who claim superiority. It's not as if the Malfoy family is what Voldemort will come to kill.

There's a sigh. To Hermione's surprise, it's Lucius, the biggest coward of them all, who reluctantly rolls up his sleeve to expose his arm and the mark that will forever mar it. Every eye tracks the movement of his wand as it's brought up to rest against the horrible skull, and his mouth opens. He breathes shallowly, as if preparing himself, and Hermione has the sudden urge to laugh at his fear. She bites it back and waits. This is taking a while, and something else is trying to claim her attention, a strange grinding noise that seems to be coming from somewhere above her.

Hermione barely has time to register the sight of Dobby on the Malfoys' chandelier before Bellatrix is yanking her backwards. They just barely escape being crushed, and Hermione is numbed by shock. If they hadn't noticed… if Bellatrix hadn't relinquished her grip until she could prevent Hermione's escape beside her… did Dobby not care that she could have died? Ron and Harry must, but with vision obstructed, they have no time to ensure her safety. Hermione can hear sounds of battle through the settling dust and plaster that choke her, and she presses back into Bellatrix without thinking, sure that without the support, she would be on her knees in defeat.

Then, somehow, she is on her knees, and she hears Bellatrix's threats above the chaos. She hears a curse, a scream, a crack—a house disapperating—another curse. Silence.

Three Malfoys and an ex-Black make their way around the chandelier and examine Hermione with varying degrees of sympathy. Hermione stops trying to meet their eyes when she realizes that Draco looks more frightened than she does. She has too much fear of her own to take on his, as well. Besides, she tries to remind herself, she has no need for any fear. Harry has escaped, Ron with him, and isn't that all that matters? They still stand a chance. Harry is the Chosen One, not her. He'll manage, somehow. He must.

Lucius disagrees.

"I suppose that takes care of Mr. Potter," he drawls, almost managing to mask his own hesitance. "The Golden Trio relied on the help of this girl, did it not?" He raises his wand, and Hermione forces herself to meet his eyes to stare him down. Silently, she dares him to continue, to kill her. She wonders if she should verbally encourage this. Surely death would be better than…

"I caught her!" Bellatrix shrieks, grabbing Lucius's wand arm and forcing it down with a snarl. "I get to keep her!"

"Bellatrix!" Narcissa protests, a touch of horror creeping into her voice. "That's—" She gulps. "That's not your call to make. You'll require our Lord's permission."

Bellatrix makes a face at her sister and walks forwards to nudge Hermione with her foot.

"I'm sure he won't mind. Look at her, Cissy, she'd be so much fun to play with!" Bellatrix readies her own wand as if to curse Hermione, and Hermione and Narcissa tense.

"Not in front of my son!" Narcissa hisses. Then, louder, "The Dark Lord wouldn't approve of you spoiling her, Bella. If we're to get anything out of her, she needs to have enough mind left to talk."

Bellatrix lowers her arm, pouting. Then a feral grin alights on her face. "She'll have to sleep in the dungeon. Wonder what the ickle baby will find there?"

Narcissa glares at her sister before turning to Hermione. "Come on, get up."

Hermione manages to struggle halfway to her feet, and then Narcissa is gripping her arm and pulling her towards the stairs. They descend into near pitch black darkness, and for a moment, Hermione wonders what transpired to allow Harry and Ron to escape. The dank air smells of death. Then she's stumbling into a cell, and she's distracted by the pain that bursts to life as she collapses against the stone floor. For a moment, she senses Narcissa lingering the by the door. Then it clangs shut and locks. Hermione listens to the echoes of Narcissa leaving the dungeon, and only when she's alone does she pull herself into a corner and curl up to cry.

XXXXX

"Get up!"

Hermione squints against the harsh light leaking into her cell and then blinks hard to clear the fog from her head. When she again opens her eyes and focuses, she almost wishes that she hadn't. In front of her stands a big, rangy man with matted grey hairs and whiskers. He's leering at her in a way that makes Hermione's skin crawl, and though her back is already against the wall, she finds herself trying to back up even further. There's a glint in Greyback's eyes that stops her heart cold. How far away is the next full moon?

There's the sound of jangling keys and then of a lock clicking open. With magical barriers swinging away with the iron bars, there's nothing to stop the smell of dirt, sweat, and lust from assaulting Hermione's senses. She gags slightly, lowering her mouth to her knees and trying to make herself as small as possible. It won't save her. Greyback takes a heavy step forwards, movements slow and menacing, and Hermione wants to scream.

No, that's not right. What she wants to do is fight. She wants to stand up and face Greyback and _win. _She wants to escape and rejoin her friends, and she wants to bring down Lord Voldemort and all of his sick, demented followers. Will she still be able to hold onto those desires if he changes her? Will she even survive long enough to be changed, or will he simply maul her beyond all possible recognition and leave her to rot… or, worse, use her to break Harry's spirit? He's almost upon her now, and Hermione reverts to her original wish.

Greyback stops in front of her to fumble with his zipper, and Hermione desperately scans the cell for something that she can use against him. Are there wards against magic here? Could she steal his wand? If she can just get to the pants he just discarded, she might be able to stun him and flee. Is anyone guarding the door? She thinks that she sees someone approaching. They must have a wand of their own, and Hermione doubts that she could use Greyback's wand in a proper duel. And now, his giant hands are reaching down to grasp her neck and restrain her, and she doesn't know how she can fight him off to begin with, and the shadow by the door is just _watching,_ and…

"What do you think you're doing?"

The icy voice stops Greyback in his tracks. For a moment, hatred flashes across his face, but he masks it before he releases Hermione, turns, and nods his head in a rough approximation of a bow.

"Miss Lestrange."

Bellatrix doesn't acknowledge him. She just stares at the spot where he happens to be standing, coincidentally furious with the air around him as Greyback pulls back on his pants. When Greyback finishes, he straightens and shifts positions, and Bellatrix's eyes track him without ever losing their intensity. Greyback pales. He steps to the side, trying to edge around her to escape. Still watching him as a snake might a particularly lame mouse, Bellatrix leans casually back against the door, guarding it. Greyback's eyes dart around as if looking for a way out, but of course, only Harry could manage to leave a place such as this.

"She belongs to the Dark Lord," Bellatrix says lowly, eyes momentarily flickering over to where Hermione sits paralyzed. Bellatrix again captures Greyback in her stare before continuing. "She is not yours to touch. You will never lay a hand on her nor raise a wand against her. You will not appreciate the consequences if you do."

"Of course," Greyback agrees, nodding forcefully. A mockery of a smile settles on Bellatrix's lips, and she moves aside to let him pass. He leaves quickly, still feeling the weight of her scorn on his retreating back. Bellatrix waits until he's long gone before turning back to Hermione, and Hermione finds herself breathless. The intensity hasn't left Bellatrix, and it leaves Hermione feeling faint.

The smile on Bellatrix's face grows larger, crueler. "Come," she commands, and Hermione is across the cell before she has the chance to determine if she's yet capable of walking. Then Bellatrix is again gripping her wrist so tightly that Hermione's hand begins to go numb. Bellatrix yanks hard, and Hermione stumbles against the older witch's body. Her wrist is released, and the weight of Bellatrix's arm drapes across her shoulder, holding her close as she's forced to accompany the dark witch back upstairs. Hermione hasn't the strength to fight it. She feels that she should, that it would be wiser to dig in her heels and provoke this dangerously short-tempered woman than to face Voldemort, but she can't help but fear what might happen to her if Bellatrix isn't around to help her. She knows that Bellatrix is only keeping her in prime condition for her master, but Hermione feels sick when she thinks of what would have happened to her if Bellatrix had come just a minute later. What Greyback intended to do to her could become her daily life if no one argues for a quick death. She's never needed a sympathetic face this badly before. Oh, please, let Snape hold even the smallest drop of sympathy…

"This way," Bellatrix says, releasing Hermione and stopping by an ornate doorway. "The Dark Lord doesn't appreciate being made to wait."

The door opens, and Hermione follows Bellatrix into a room full of Voldemort's followers. They're crowded around a large table, and the sheer number of them turns Hermione's stomach to lead. Bellatrix ignores all of them, walking past them to kneel at a man's feet.

"My Lord," she murmurs. Reluctantly, Hermione turns to see the man that she's addressing, already knowing what she'll find.

At the head of the table sits Voldemort, and he's not happy.

XXXXX

_A/N:As always, thanks for all favorites, reviews, and subscriptions._

_Lillielle: I noticed that, actually. I think some people might prefer the first chapter as a one shot to the story in its entirety, so that's probably a good thing! I hope the rest of the story is well received too, though (of course). And yes, Bellatrix is a bit different in this story; she's a primary psychopath, not secondary, for once. ;)_

_OpheliaBlack: Well, it _is_ the easiest place to draw a Bellamione from, of course, and the movie didn't help that. Hopefully, despite any plot similarities that may occur, my story will still satisfy you with its seductive Bellatrix and smut!_

_Thanks as well to Justine, jmits711, CaraCersei, hilt51, SaturnRider2014, Kigo Stories, 214, and all the anonymous reviewers!_


End file.
